


Little Eden

by brewstr



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, but an incredibly cute and sweet mess so there's that, this is going to be a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brewstr/pseuds/brewstr
Summary: Ben returns to his hometown of Little Eden, Vermont when his father is injured in a fall. Away from the fast-paced, high-stress life he leads in New York City, Ben finds comfort and happiness in the quiet backwoods town.Oh and Caleb lives there and he and Ben knew each other in high school and the townspeople plot to match them up.--The wind that rushed in through the open windows chilled Ben despite the warmth of the day. He shivered when Caleb looked back at him.





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m telling you, Ben. Andre’s in the bag.”

“I just don’t want to count our eggs before they’ve hatched.”

“We’re not, Ben,” Anna joined. “He’ll sign. You’re just paranoid.”

“As usual,” Alex jibed.

Ben, Anna and Alex started an art PR firm four years previous and now they were a day away from signing their biggest client yet. John Andre was a successful attorney before he had decided to take his interest in art to a more professional level. He was excited to have a PR team at his disposal and was willing to pay well for the services provided. Today they had met him for an early supper at a restaurant Andre recommended to discuss some final details. If Andre decided in their favor, he would come by their office the next morning and sign the papers. The three partners were now on their way back to Anna’s car where it was parked in a garage several blocks down from the restaurant. The day was pleasant for June in the city and Ben was light and excited. He figured this was what happiness felt like. Business from John Andre would be a big break for them and on top of that Ben liked him. He was warm and charming. Anna and Alex were convinced that their firm was the on the top of John’s list because he was interested in Ben but Ben always brushed of their insistence. Secretly, he wondered if it could be true. He found might not mind if it were.

“Where is he, Ben?” Alex urged, turning to walk backward in front of him.

“In the bag?”

“In the bag!” Anna chimed joyously, linking arms with Ben.

Ben rolled his eyes but allowed them a conceding grin.

They were almost to the garage when Ben stopped and pulled his vibrating phone from his pocket. A call was coming in.He seemed confused by the number but answered anyway.

“Hello?… Yes, this is he. Who’s calling?… Oh yes, of course.” Ben sent a bewildered look at Anna and Alex. He was silent for a couple minutes, just listening. The lighthearted confusion on his face transformed into concern and then all the color drained from his face. “Y-yes, thank you. I’ll be there. I’ll be there sometime tonight.”

Ben hung up on the call and covered his eyes with his hand. Anna went up to him and laid a hand on his arm.

“What’s the matter? Who was that?”

“Mrs. Washington,” Ben answered abstractedly, for the moment unaware that the name meant nothing to his friends. When he came around, he explained in a stammer: “My dad fell, he’s in the hospital. I—I’ve gotta go.”

 

“You can’t leave, Andre’s supposed to sign tomorrow morning. You’ve got to be there!”

Alex was trailing around at Ben’s heels in his apartment fifteen minutes later. Anna was on the sofa, reluctantly occupied in the task reserving a plane ticket to Burlington, Vermont while Ben packed.

“Ben, this is it. This is our big client! The one we’ve been imagining and dreaming about since we started this damn thing! Andre’s gonna put us in the top five and you’re—you’re bailing! When’s the last time you went home for Christmas anyway?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Alex plowed over him. “You couldn’t stay until after we meet with him? Leave at noon tomorrow.”

“No, I’m going now. I can’t stay.” Ben was adamant. “You said yourself, Andre’s in the bag. He’ll sign either way.”

“He might back out last minute if you’re not there to bat your eyelashes at him.”

Ben threw three pairs of pants into the duffel on the bed and swung around to look at Alex indignantly.

“I do _not_ bat my eyelashes at—” He then interrupted himself to cry, “I don’t even know why we’re arguing about this! My dad’s lying unconscious in a hospital in Vermont. I have no idea what happened or how bad it is. He could have had a heart attack for all I know. _He could be dying._ ”

Alex threw up his hands and turned to give Anna an exasperated look.

“How am I supposed to respond to that?”

Anna shrugged resignedly and shook her head, getting up from the sofa to join Alex at Ben’s bedroom door.

“Plane’s booked, Ben.” Alex started up in protest again but Anna’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Let it go, Alex. It can’t be helped.”

 

The plane ride was less than an hour and a half but to Ben if felt like an eternity. The five minutes it took to get a cab at the Burlington airport felt even longer somehow. He felt heavy now. Odd how everything could seem to unravel in a matter of hours.He got to the hospital at half past eight and was directed to the floor where they had taken his father.

“Benjamin?” A woman’s voice came from one side of him when he entered the waiting room.

Ben turned to find his second-grade math teacher, Martha Washington, approaching him. It had been something like eight years since he would have last seen her, but he would have recognized her anywhere. She hadn’t changed at all.

“Mrs. Washington.” Ben dropped his duffel bag at his feet and let her hug him lightly, needing the comfort her touch brought.

“I’ve talked to the doctor. It’s a hip fracture on the right side. That’s the extent of it, except for a few scrapes and bruises… The doctor says he fainted, probably from the pain, and that’s why he wasn’t conscious when the ambulance arrived. There’s no head injury… He’ll be in surgery tonight, but you’ll be able to see him in the morning.”

Mrs. Washington’s soothing voice murmured to him through the fog of his anxiety. Ben heard all that she said but it was distant as if he were listening in on a conversation in another room.

“What happened?” He asked, rousing and forcing himself to be present.

“He fell from a neighbor’s tree,” she answered carefully. “He was cutting branches away from the power lines and he must have lost his balance.”

Anger and exasperation flared up in Ben. “Jesus Christ!He’s gonna be sixty next year, what was he thinking?” He covered his face and turned away. Then, remembering himself, he turned back and apologized.

Mrs. Washington shook her head and reached up to rub his arm soothingly. “I understand that you’re upset. It’s been quite a scare, I know.” She paused tactfully. “Can I get you anything? Some coffee from the cafeteria maybe?”

“Oh no, you don’t need to that… I can get some myself.”

“Allow me,” she insisted softly. “You can sit down here and rest. Cream and sugar?”

“Please.”

“Oh, you might want to call your brother. I decided against calling him earlier because I know he’s in Chicago and I assumed it would be better not to worry him before we had all the details.”

Ben nodded, “Yeah, that was probably best. I’ll call him now. Thank you, Mrs. Washington.”

“ _Martha,_ ” she corrected him in the same gracious tone he’d heard her use when the second graders got the answer wrong to an equation. It felt strange to call her by her first name, but he complied and amended his thanks.

Martha smiled kindly and withdrew. Ben collapsed into the nearest of the waiting room chairs and reached to drag his bag over and tuck it under the chair. He got out his phone and pressed the speed dial number seven for Sam. Ben almost felt guilty breaking the news to him when Sam picked up with a cheery greeting. Ben explained things to him and they agreed that Sam would try to scrape together enough for the fare one way and Ben would cover his ticket back.

“You okay?” Sam asked when there was a pause.

“Yeah,” Ben let it out like a sigh. “I’ll be better when I can talk to him. But I’m okay.”

“Alright. Well, hopefully, I’ll see you in the next couple of days. Might take me some time to come up with the cash. Keep me updated on Dad, okay?”

“I will.”

Another pause.

“Hey, Ben, I love you.”

Ben smiled wearily, “I love you, too.”

They exchanged goodbyes and a minute or so later Martha returned, holding two steaming Styrofoam cups in her hands.

“Just as a warning, I’ve had a sip of mine and it’s not the best,” she said ruefully as she settled into the chair next to him and gingerly handed him his cup. “But it’s hot and it’s caffeinated.”

Ben smiled at her. Her presence was soothing. She was capable and calm and warm. His head began to clear and he realized just how much Martha had handled this evening. He settled his cup of coffee on his thigh and attempted to thank her more formally.

Martha just smiled and waved him off. “I was worried about your father and wanted to help. I’m sure George would have come have come along if he were in town when it happened. But he was running an errand for me in Morrisville.”

Ben asked about her husband, just wanting her to talk and distract him. He wasn’t sure, but as he continued to ask questions about her and their hometown of Little Eden and the people there he began to think she knew his reasons. Ben didn’t mind, he liked her and knew she was happy to provide whatever distraction he desired.

A couple hours passed before a doctor appeared and approached them. She explained that Nathaniel was out of surgery and that everything had gone smoothly. He would have to stay at the hospital for a week or so before he could be moved to the next step.

“He is under sixty-five, which improves his chances of a quicker and fuller recovery. Things are looking good right now, considering.”

 

Martha had a friend in Burlington and left the hospital to spend the night with her. Ben spent the night slumped in the armchair in his father’s room. He was surprised to find he’d slept at all when he woke to the sound of heavy rain in the early hours of the next morning. He sent texts to Anna and Alex and called Sam again to fill him in on what the doctor said.

 

“So why were you in a tree?” Ben demanded after his father was awake and they were finished with breakfast.

“Mrs. Boyd needed the branches cut away from the power lines before the storm last night.”

“Didn’t get to finish the job, did you?”

“I made some good progress,” Nathaniel answered pointedly.

“Dad…”

“I’m _alright_ , Ben. And I’ll be alright.”

Nathaniel’s rough features were softened with exhaustion. Ben felt bad for being so harsh with him.

“It could have been worse, you know.”

“It wasn’t worse.”

Ben’s head rolled down in aggravation but he decided to change the subject instead of arguing.

“Sam’s gonna try to get up here soon. Not today but maybe tomorrow. He won’t be able to stay for long but he wanted to come see you.”

Nathaniel nodded.

“Martha called and said she’ll drop by to see you before heading back to Little Eden.”

 

Ben got a call from John while Martha was visiting. He jumped to answer it and moved over by the window to talk.

“I’m just calling to let you know I signed with your team. I’m sure you’re much preoccupied but I thought I’d let you know anyway.”

“Oh, John, that’s great news. I’m glad to hear it. We’re excited to work with you.” Ben hoped the formalities didn’t sound too hollow.

He could hear the smile in John’s voice when he spoke again:

“I think it’s fantastic. I’m very happy with the prospect. I was, however, very sorry to hear about your father. How is he?”

“He’s fine, thanks for asking. It’ll be another few days before he can leave the hospital, but the doctors are confident that he’ll recover fully.”

“Good, good. Look, Ben, I’ve just reached my appointment so I’ll have to go now, but you’ll keep me up to date about your father, won’t you?”

Ben felt a little flutter in his stomach that he attempted to quash immediately.

“I’ll do that. I really appreciate your concern.”

“Of course.”

Ben didn’t realize that Martha and Nathaniel had stopped talking until he hung up the phone. They looked away from him quickly and continued with their conversation as if there hadn’t been a pause. Ben returned to his chair silently and caught an amused glance from his dad.

 

The week went quickly. Ben got a room at a nearby hotel to spend his nights and spent most of his days at the hospital. Sam came up for two days and the brothers just sat by Nathaniel’s bed and talked for hours. Nathaniel wanted to go back to Little Eden instead of being admitted to a rehabilitation center. Ben and Sam tried to convince him that constant professional care would mean a quicker recovery but their father was adamant.

“I just want to go home.”

That was when Ben decided to go home with him.

“Ben, I’m sure I’ll have plenty of help. You don’t need put your life on hold to look after me.”

“You’re more important than anything I’d be putting on hold, Dad. Besides, it wouldn’t have to be for very long, just long enough to get you settled in and make sure everything’s taken care of. A month or so—at most.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was as if every leaf, every speck of dust remained exactly where Ben left them. Here was Little Eden in June, as it had been every June of his childhood. The old brick house was as stately and neatly kept as ever, standing small and proud at the bottom of a long dirt drive, shielded from the road by maples and pines so familiar Ben could have mapped them in his sleep.

Martha and her husband George helped Ben unpack Nathaniel and settle him into a wheelchair. George had taught high school history. Ben felt even stranger addressing _him_ by his first name. They had to lift the wheelchair to get it up the porch steps and George mentioned that building a ramp might be a good idea.

“Am I too heavy for you, George?” Nathaniel asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Not hardly,” George replied seriously and the other three exchanged smiles at the missed joke.

“I’m sure Caleb would be more than happy to do it for you, Nat,” Martha said as they wheeled Nathaniel into the house.

“Caleb?” Ben asked before he was really conscious of wanting the answer.

Nathaniel twisted around in his chair to look up at his son. “You remember Caleb Brewster, don’t you, Ben?”

Of course he did. Thirteen years later and Ben still thought about him sometimes. But all the memories were ambiguous blurs of navy blue nights and the volatile restlessness of high schoolers stranded in a small town for the summer.

“Yeah—but I had no idea he was around anymore. He lives here?”

“He moved back about three years ago when his uncle died,” Martha answered, a sympathetic expression on her face. Then she brightened a little and said, “He’s quite the man-about-town these days. Our resident handyman. And he’s been renovating Lucas’s old place. If you get a chance, Ben, you should really go up there. You’d be amazed at what he’s done with it. It’s beautiful.”

“Back of the Moon”—the unofficial title of the Brewster place. The property sat on the outer curve of the crescent-shaped Moon lake, in a secluded densely-forested area about a mile and a half outside of town. The house and the land were Lucas Brewster’s pride and joy but had fallen into disrepair in the man’s later years due to his illnesses. Ben remembered swimming in Moon Lake, keeping one eye on the dilapidated cabin through the trees. Caleb lived there. That was enough to make it exciting.

The Washingtons saw them settled in and secured a promise to be notified in any event of need before they left.

“You never told me Caleb moved back,” Ben mentioned (casually, he thought) over the meal Martha and George insisted on preparing for them. “I remember hearing about Mr. Brewster passing but you never told me about Caleb.”

“Should I have warned you?” Nathaniel eyed Ben. “I thought the two of you were friends.”

“No, you didn’t need to _warn_ me. We were,” Ben made a noncommittal gesture, “friends.”

They weren’t _friends_. Ben and Abe Woodhull were friends; Abe and Caleb were friends. Ben and Caleb were acquaintances, the kind who would greet each other in the hallways and maybe talk casually now and then. But Ben always found it difficult to breathe around Caleb—his lungs were pressed as his heart squeezed past them on its way up to his throat.

 

Ben’s old bedroom was empty as the day he left for Yale. His bed, chest of drawers, bookcase and the old arm chair were all in their same places, but the walls were bare, the closet barren. Ben threw his duffel unto the arm chair and tried to remember when he last visited home. After much contemplation came up with Christmas, five and a half years previous and guiltily decided not to think about it again.

Ben returned to the ground floor to help his dad get to bed. He laid awake for hours that night. He knew he wanted to be here, at his father’s side. But at this point he had been away from the routine of his life the New York for over a week and it felt like he lost control. He felt as if he were uprooted and cast to float at sea, with no say where the tides took him and no promise of land.

 

“Go to church.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“What can happen to me here? I’m in a wheelchair. Go to church.”

“I’ll stay with him, Ben,” Martha joined in to waylay the impending fight. She had arrived at six-thirty with a few groceries that she brought for them the previous evening. She was now cleaning what she had used to make breakfast for them, despite many kind protests from both the Tallmadges.

“Caleb will be there,” Nathaniel mentioned, stabbing into his eggs.

Ben was annoyed that his dad thought that would be a motivator. It was, but Ben was annoyed that Nathaniel assumed it.

“Caleb goes to church?”

“Every Sunday.”

Ben just raised his eyebrows and got up from the table without giving Nathaniel an answer. He took the dishes Martha dried and began to put them away in the cabinets when he noticed Nathaniel’s medication container on the counter. That day’s dose of pain killers were still in their compartment. He reached for it.

“Dad, you were supposed to take these at six AM.”

“I didn’t need them. I feel fine.”

Ben stared.

“You’re not going to feel fine when the last dose wears off. You need to take them.”

“I will.”

“Now, Dad.”

Nathaniel looked unimpressed with his son’s insistence and waved him off to continue eating his breakfast. Martha sent a laughing smile toward Ben and turned to finish with the dishes.

“Okay, look—I go to church—and you take the pain meds now. Deal?”

“You have to go to the luncheon afterward, too. Everyone will want to see you there.”

“There’s a luncheon afterward?” Ben sagged.

“The luncheons were Pastor Rick’s idea. We have them every week now,” Martha explained happily.

“Fine, church and luncheon. You take these.” Ben put the container on the table.

“Deal.” Then Nathaniel regarded Ben dubiously for a moment. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

Ben gave Martha an exasperated look, but he resigned.

“Apparently not.”

 

Ben walked to the church. He amused himself by picking out every change he could find in the place. The Mortimers had painted their mailbox; it used to be bright yellow, but now it was a sky blue. There were some new baby maples lining the Townsends’ drive. And we he got into town he saw some of the sidewalks had been redone. About time, too, he remembered how painful it was to ride his bike over those walks. He reached the old church building, sequestered on a low hilltop away from the cluster of buildings that were considered “town.” People were milling around outside in small groups, chatting in their Sunday voices. Ben was close to positive Mrs. Kelinsky wore that same floral pattern sundress when he knew her as his piano instructor in elementary school. She saw him come up but judging by her covert stare he realized she didn’t recognize him. Ben decided not to clarify. He never liked his piano lessons.

He heard his name, and looked to see George walking up to him. Relieved to find a face that wasn’t eyeing him with thinly-veiled suspicion or apparent curiosity, Ben smiled and took George’s offered hand happily. He answered all inquiries about his father and the two walked into the church together.The foyer had obviously been recarpeted and some of the furniture looked new. But then they entered the sanctuary. Somebody handed Ben a bulletin but he wasn’t paying any attention. Suddenly he was eight years old again, running on a nervous stomach in anticipation of his baptism. Absolutely nothing had changed here. The cream white walls, the stained glass windows depicting Bible stories and prophets, forty pews arranged in two columns with their uncomfortable maroon cushions and racks for the archaic forest green hymnals. Even the bouquets that decorated the stage and base of the pulpit were all the same colors as he remembered. Groups of church-goers gathered here, too. Clusters sat in pews and stood in the aisle, their Sunday voices a little softer here, more reverent.

“This couldn’t be Benjamin Tallmadge, could it?” The voice of Samuel Townsend came from Ben’s right.

“Mr. Townsend!” Ben turned with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

Samuel Townsend was a good friend of Ben’s father, and his son Robert had been a friend of Ben’s in high school. Mr. Townsend was a peculiar man, cheery and somehow in a constant state of tongue-in-cheek. Ben had always liked him. He had aged some, his fluffy hair a little whiter than it used to be, and his glasses were perhaps a little thicker. Townsend smiled, his mouth pursing and his eyes wrinkling.

“And you, as well! I’ve been trying, but I can’t seem to recall the last time I would have seen you.”

“It’s been quite a while, I’m afraid,” Ben answered, neglecting to mention that _he_ recalled.

“Well.” Townsend’s mouth pursed tighter and his eyes wrinkled more as his smile brightened. His bushy eyebrows shot up expressively. “We’re very happy to have you for the time being. Although one wishes the circumstances were not so unfortunate. How is your father?”

Ben dutifully reiterated what he had told George not five minutes earlier. He realized he was going to have to repeat it a good ten times before today was over. An abridged version was needed.

The sanctuary filled suddenly, as if on cue, and people began to settle into their unofficially assigned pews. Clutching his bulletin for moral support, Ben followed George to his place, the twelfth pew from the front in the left-hand section. The band consisted of Mrs. Kelinsky at the piano, Mr. Arron the real estate agent at the beat-up drum set and a teenage boy on an acoustic guitar. They played an awkwardly arranged opening to “Rock of Ages” as the rest of the congregation shuffled in and distributed themselves.

A strawberry blonde pregnant woman and a small boy passed them. She ushered the boy into a pew a few rows up in the right section and unloaded the large tote she carried unto the pew. She looked up toward the back of the sanctuary and a sudden smile brightened her face. She reached a hand out toward the man who came up. He hugged her and the little boy stood up on the pew to greet him enthusiastically.

Too slowly and all at once Ben realized it was Caleb standing there, playing with the boy’s hands as he spoke to the woman. Caleb was still short. Ben wasn’t sure why he assumed that would change but it came as a surprise to him. Caleb’s hair was short but he had a beard now. He looked nice. Ben began to feel nervous. A feeling almost as familiar as the hard pew were he sat and just as familiar as the way Caleb tipped his head to one side when his smile widened. A man started talking from the pulpit and Caleb jumped to make it to his seat, exchanging one more grin with the woman before he went.

The service started. Ben tried to redirect his attention but his eyes kept shifting to the fourth pew from the front on the right side where Caleb stood, bouncing absently as he watched the man on the stage.

“That’s Pastor Rick Worthington,” George whispered to Ben, startling him a little. “I don’t think you would have met him.”

Ben shook his head and whispered back, “No, I never met him.”

George nodded sagely for no apparent reason and Ben wondered if he’d missed something.

“I’m sure all our thoughts and prayers are again with Pastor Nathaniel this morning,” Pastor Rick said now, after telling everyone to have a seat. “We rejoice that he is now home from the hospital and on his way to a full recovery. But until then, I’ll have to fill in for him here at the pulpit.” He paused, then added humorously, “Thank you all for suppressing your groans.”

An obligatory ripple of soft laughter went through the room and Pastor Rick looked appeased.

He continued abruptly, “I was told that his son Ben is here in town with him, and I believe…” He lifted his head and scanned the sanctuary, “is actually here with us this morning. Ben, could you raise your hand for us?”

Head started turning on all sides, searching for Ben. Ben wanted to evaporate. But he complied, smiling and lifting one hand. He forced himself to keep it raised for a couple seconds to allow the congregation to shift around and spot him. Those who knew him turned with sunny smiles and sympathetic looks. Those who did not looked curious. A select few looked as if they couldn’t care less but had turned so as not to look rudely disinterested. Ben dropped his hand and was pretty sure he felt his soul leaving his body.

But then he looked at Caleb again.Their eyes met as the other heads began to turn away. Pastor Rick was talking again, but Ben wasn’t listening. Caleb was grinning again, at Ben this time. His brows raised in a greeting and Ben pressed his lips together in what should have been a smile. They both looked away and Ben shifted on the pew, hoping to alleviate the sudden discomfort he felt. It wasn’t the pew but Ben could always pretend.

 

– –

 

The summer following their senior year of high school became a sort of limbo. All the graduates knew they wanted to go—get away from the small town everybody-knows-everybody atmosphere. But there was fear, too, harbored in many of them. The world outside of Little Eden was big and frightening. And change _—_ now that was terrifying.

One night in early August a bunch of the senior class piled into a couple cars and headed to the bowling alley in a nearby town. Not to actually bowl, really—it was simply the nearest place to buy food and find people their age also looking for a distraction. Ben didn’t exactly care to go but Caleb was going and Ben had formed a habit of following after Caleb whenever possible, even though the chances of significant or rewarding interactions were near zero.

Caleb and Abe didn’t talk to each other all evening. When Ben asked Abe, he got all defensive and mopey and mentioned they got into an argument the day before. Caleb came by the table were they sat a little while later and made an offhanded joke. Ben knew he was trying to patch things up. But Abe cut him off and got up to move away. Ben and Caleb watched him go then looked at each other. Caleb rolled his eyes and left. Ben watched him head out the front door. Abe came back to the table a few minutes later and Ben made sure he caught a dirty look before Ben got up and went to follow Caleb. Warm, humid night air closed around him as he left the alley and walked into the dingy little parking lot, following along the first row of cars, searching.

“Ben,” Caleb’s voice called him. Ben turned quickly and caught sight of Caleb over the cars. He was leaning against the passenger side door of Abe’s parents’ car, parked in the second row.

Ben trotted over to him despite regretting every decision he was currently making.

“Were you looking for me?”

Ben attempted to come up with a lie but then couldn’t see the point in it. Why shouldn’t he come looking?

“I was wondering where you went.” He kicked at the pavement as he came up and tucked his hands under his arms. “Abe was being a dick. I’m sorry.”

Caleb shrugged.

“I’m not mad. I don’t feel like going back in but he’s my ride so...” He shrugged again and offered Ben a lopsided smile. Ben smiled back.

Caleb looked down and added, “You shouldn’t have to apologize for him anyway.”

“Somebody should,” Ben mumbled, feeling bulky.

“So, Yale, huh?” Caleb changed the subject after an oppressive silence. Ben nodded. “Wow.”

“Are you surprised?” Ben half-joked.

“Nah, I guess I’d expect it if I'd given it any thought.”

Ben’s stomach tugged. Caleb rarely gave him any thought. Of course. He was stupid for thinking otherwise.

“You’ve always been really good at school.” Caleb was still talking, his tone suddenly warm and companionable. “I would sneak looks at your homework when we got it back. All As and high B. I couldn’t understand how you did it.”

Ben blushed and was grateful for the dimness.

“Sleep deprivation and a lot of performance anxiety,” he quipped dismally.

Caleb chuckled. He thought it was funny. _Score_.

Then suddenly they were just talking. About high school and life and people they knew. It all flowed naturally and Ben kept making Caleb laugh. Ben was running off a high of anxiety and excitement and he had to pay extra attention to make sure he didn’t stop breathing for too long at a time. There came a pause and Caleb just sort of stopped and looked at him.

“What?” Ben demanded in a laugh.

“You know we’ve never talked much,” Caleb stated simply. “I always thought you didn’t like me.”

“Really? No!” Ben cried, staring for a minute. “I’m just—shy around you, I think. I dunno. I think you make me nervous.”

 _Damn it._ Shouldn’t have said that. Caleb’s eyes lit up with amusement and interest.

“I make you nervous?”

Ben shrugged and laughed, feeling a little panicky, and tightened his arms against his chest as if that offered some protection.

“I don’t know. You have a lot of friends, and you’re always doing something or going somewhere. You just seem like you have everything together. You’re cool, I guess.”

Caleb was laughing at him but Ben didn’t mind. His laugh was so wonderful.

“And here I thought you were too cool for me. Honor roll, nice clothes. Your dad’s the preacher. You know—Little Eden elite.”

They were laughing at each other now, and their heads almost touched as they bent over with their giggles. They both straightened quickly and sobered. Ben let himself meet Caleb’s eyes for longer than he ever had.

“Kind of stupid, isn’t it? That we’re just talking about this now. We’ve known each other for a long time.”

Caleb tipped his head to one side and regarded Ben ruefully. “Pretty bad timing, huh.”

“Yeah.”

With a sudden smile, Caleb pushed away from the car and reached out to take hold of Ben’s wrist where it was still tucked tightly between his chest and opposite arm. Caleb settled back and Ben allowed himself to be pulled in. His stomach was painfully tight and the flight instinct was kicking in but Ben was thinking of all the daydreams that wound up here, standing over Caleb, close enough to count every dark eyelash and feel his breath. His eyes were so deep that they seemed to be the origin of the light in them, instead of a mere reflection of the glow from the single lamp in the lot.

“I’ve been curious about something for a while now,” Caleb murmured.

Caleb’s hand lifted from his wrist slid up to the back of Ben’s neck. The fingers pressed in, Ben lowered his head and Caleb turned into him. Caleb’s lips were hot and the heat in Ben’s body slammed to a fever pitch in a matter of seconds. Ben unfolded his arms and tentatively slipped them around Caleb, pressing them closer together. Caleb fit both arms around Ben’s neck and kissed him harder.

They broke a minute later at the sound of a shout from a group of their classmates coming out of the bowling alley. The view was obscured by the parked cars and the kids disappeared around the corner of the building without noticing the boys, their loud voices becoming muffled and distant. Caleb pushed his head into Ben’s shoulder, laughing at himself.

“That scared the shit out of me.”

Ben’s breath came out trembling and he struggled to recover before Caleb lifted his head again. Caleb had let go of him and Ben took a half-step back, dropping his arms and shoving his hands into his pants pockets. Ben inhaled the air between them and it felt thick in his lungs. Caleb just watched him.

“Hey, guys.”

Both heads shot up again, this time to find Abe emerging from between two cars. His voice had the strain of forced nonchalance. For a second Ben panicked, imaging that Abe had seen them. But as Abe wandered up he could see the guilt in Abe’s ducked head and hunched shoulders. He was coming to apologize. Ben relaxed and stepped back to let Caleb face Abe.

“Look, Caleb, I’m sorry about that back there,” he said, awkwardly resting his hands on his hips and shifting his weight.

“Forget it, Woody. I’m not upset.”

Abe didn’t press it. He and Caleb started talking about something else and Ben once again fell into his usual role as the one on the fringes. Although this time he could still feel an imprint of Caleb’s touch as he half-listened to the conversation.

A lot of the kids still had curfews so people started trickling back toward the parking lot a little while later. Ben crawled into the back seat of Abe’s car from the right rear door because the left door was broken and didn’t open from the outside. He heard Caleb tell one of the girls riding with them to take shotgun. Then Caleb climbed to sit next to Ben with a grin that Ben caught when he dared to glance over. The second girl was on Caleb’s opposite side but he probably didn’t have to be shoved up quite so close to Ben. He kept rearranging himself dramatically, shoving an elbow into Ben’s side several times until Ben shoved back.

Ben was dropped off at the head of his driveway and Caleb moved into his seat.

“See you later, Ben!” Abe called back.

“Yeah, see you around, Ben.” Caleb smiled up at him teasingly.

“Later,” Ben answered, pushing the car door shut abruptly enough to make Caleb jump back a little. Ben smiled sweetly at him through the window and waved before turning to head down the drive.

 

Two weeks later Ben heard Caleb left for San Francisco. He had lined up a job out there with a friend of a family friend months previous. Ben never knew. He was forced to except that whatever arose between them was over before it really started.Talk about bad timing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an update!!! wow

The luncheon was a little rough. Now that everyone had the face to the name, Ben was inundated with sympathies and questions and interest from the entire church-going population of Little Eden. Every time one group passed on he was flooded with the next. They were all very kind and welcoming but Ben struggled to keep up.

Caleb watched from the outskirts, finding it all wonderfully amusing. Ben stood rigidly, rubbing his palms together in a nervous tick and listened to people with his delicate brow drawn together, making him appear more worried than interested. Most of Caleb’s memories of Ben’s looks came from the two photos of Ben in their senior yearbook. His senior portrait, wearing a preppy sweater and a deer-in-the-headlights expression—and the picture Mr. Washington took of him with his acceptance letter from Yale, washed out from the flash with a dopey, self-conscious grin. Today he was nowhere near the lanky seventeen year old with the buzzed haircut. His honey-brown hair was arranged perfectly to look as if it had just fallen that way. His clothes were expensive-looking and flattering, but obviously carefully chosen not to look _too_ fancy. He’d filled out, too… _and in all the right places_ , Caleb thought to himself.

“The illustrious Benjamin Tallmadge,” Nate Sackett’s theatrical intonations broke into Caleb’s thoughts. “Both Little Eden’s pride _and_ her prodigal son.”

“You really just come up with that stuff, don’t you? Like off the cuff?” Caleb asked sardonically, taking a sip of his iced tea and turning toward Nate to pretend he hadn’t been watching the scene quite so intently. Nate’s sharp eyes twinkled. He was never too proud to laugh at himself.

“I know there are two Tallmadge boys, is he the younger one or the older?”

“He’s the older one. Samuel’s the younger one—he lives in Chicago. He’s a musician or something.”

“What does this one do?” Nate nodded in Ben’s direction.

“PR for artists. He’s got a firm in New York. Nat says they’re doing really well.”

“How was the service, by the way?” Nate inquired, a different type of twinkle lighting his glance now. “How were Worthington’s lamentations—sincere enough, you think?”

“He managed to sound regretful, but he looked a little too excited when he got a laugh out of them about it,” Caleb reported. “You missed the service again?”

“I slept too late.”

“You always manage to make it to lunch.”

“I get up at noon on Sundays,” Nate said simply, a smile twisting onto his face. Caleb clicked his tongue.

 

A pause in the tides gave Ben a moment to breathe. He found a garbage can to covertly dump a particularly bad serving of casserole and went in search of something to drink. He headed over to the drink table by the wall. He cleared a cluster of teenagers and immediately he saw Caleb standing by the table talking to the lady who was refilling the coffee maker. Ben would have doubled back but Caleb already spotted him and it was too late. The lady moved away to attend to the ice bucket and the two smiled at each other as Ben came up.

“Hey, stranger,” Caleb said easily, plucking a plastic cup from the top of the stack behind him and handing it to Ben. His expression became humorous, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Oh, very much so.” Ben filled the cup with lemonade from one of the pitchers. “When does it end?”

“When everyone gets hungry again.” When he saw the horror in Ben’s expression, Caleb amended, “I can usually slip out by two, but it takes some skill.”

“Not to brag, but I’m pretty good at leaving parties early.”

Caleb rewarded the joke with a gracious chuckle. “If that’s the case, you shouldn’t have any problem.”

“Ben-jee-min!” Mrs. Boyd’s sing-songy voice interrupted their silence. Ben turned to face her reluctantly. As a child he had been terrified by the imposing, energetic woman and as a teenager she had annoyed him to no end by making continual vague passes at his dad. Now as an adult, he was still disinclined toward any affection for her. After all, she was the reason his dad was in that damn tree in the first place. She was in and out of every group that passed him so far, sticking her nose into the conversation and then promptly changing the subject.

She linked an arm through Ben’s and plunged in, “Well now, I forgot to ask (you know, I cannot for the life of me figure how!), if you’re seeing anyone back in New York?”

Caleb tactfully turned to refill his cup as Ben stumbled over his answer.

“Nope—not currently—no.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Boyd looked simultaneously horrified and ecstatic. “Well, we’ll have to get to fixing that straight away, now won’t we?”

She immediately whirled away as if that were a perfectly appropriate way to end a conversation. Ben looked back at Caleb, who scratched his nose and fought off a smile.

“Hey, she saved me the fencing,” he admitted.

“Well, to save myself,” Ben rejoined after a laugh, “how about you?”

“Me?” Caleb shook his head and the smile won out.

“So what’re you doing these days?” Caleb asked as if he didn’t covertly worm updates out of Nat on a regular basis. He didn’t have to fake the interest in listening to Ben talk. Ben spoke deliberately, his brow furrowed and eyes lowered as he formulated whatever it was he was trying to say. Then when he seemed to have the current thought fully defined his brow would lift and he would look up with an almost quizzical expression, as if he wondered if he were understood. This process repeated itself a few times in several variations as Ben talked. Caleb just watched.

Ben was pretty sure he was talking too much. Caleb looked interested but Ben figured it was just courtesy. He forced himself to an awkward stop and returned the question. Caleb shrugged.

“I do odd jobs around town mostly. And I help out in Townsend’s general store. He’s been down a man since Rob moved away. You remember Rob, right?” —a nod from Ben— “I’m still working on the house, too.”

“Oh, yeah. Martha was telling me you were fixing up the place.”

Caleb perked up when he nodded. Ben smiled, realizing he’d hit upon a treasured subject. Caleb looked sweet with excitement in his eyes.

“Mhm. I’ve still got a ways to go on foundation work. The basement still leaks quite a bit when it rains. But I’ve replaced insulation and drywall and repainted most of it. It’s a lot of work and sometimes I have to wait while money’s tight, but I’m happy with it.” He added with enthusiasm, “You should really come see it sometime.”

“I’d love to,” Ben said sincerely. “I’m curious to see what you’ve done with it.”

A short while earlier, Caleb had laughed at the groups of Little Edeners for their apparent fascination and infatuation with Ben Tallmadge. Now, standing beneath a courteous smile and an eager gaze Caleb found himself hypocritically entranced. He laughed at himself inwardly and pushed the effects aside.

 

“Two seventeen!” Caleb noted his watch with pride as the two descended from the creaking boardwalk that ran along the set of trailers where the luncheon was held. “That’s a record, considering I’ve got a celebrity in tow.” He tossed a grin over his shoulder. Ben lengthened his strides to fall into pace beside Caleb as they headed back in the direction of the Tallmadges’.

“I still haven’t asked how he is. Your dad,” Caleb said, brushing at Ben’s arm with a knuckle. “I’m sure you’ve told it a hundred times over by now though, huh.”

“I came up with this shortened, polished version of it for everybody,” Ben began, looking up at sunlight through the trees overhead while he wondered why he was about to admit this. “A combination of facts and what I know people want to hear. You know, like, ‘We’re expecting a full recovery and he’s holding up well.’”

He went on, “Truth is, he’s pissed. It frustrates him to be the cared for and not the carer. He feels cooped up and useless and that makes him mad. But I can’t tell themthat.”

He was telling Caleb though. He wasn’t sure why he felt so suddenly and easily honest with Caleb. He barely knew the guy.

“I can understand that,” Caleb answered simply.

“Me too, but—” Another admittance sprung to Ben’s lips and he hesitated a moment. He felt a release, a comfort in a peer to with whom he could speak freely.

“But what?” Caleb’s soft prompt decided him.

“I haven’t figured out how to handle it yet. It scared the shit out of me to hear he’d been injured and I want to be able to take care of him now, but the way I go about it only seems to make him more pissed. I get worried and turn into a stickler about things and that sets his teeth on edge, then we end up arguing. I don’t know how to make it better.”

“You’ve identified a problem. That’s the first step.”

Ben considered that in silence for a moment, then said, “I suppose you’re right.”

They never knew each other well, but here they were talking like old friends. It surprised Ben that he didn’t mind it. Conversation turned to the weather and other such mundane topics for several minutes of the walk. A breeze picked up and eased the warmth of the day. Their feet began to crunch on the gravel road that led away from the town into the thickly forested residences.

“I was sorry,” Ben started abruptly, giving voice to a thought that kept tugging at him as they talked, “that I wasn’t able to attend the funeral for your uncle. I remember my dad telling me of his passing, but I wasn’t able to make it home at the time.”

He looked over at Caleb and Caleb nodded comprehendingly.

“It was nice, the funeral,” he said quietly. “The whole town turned out.”

“Did you get to see him before he passed?” Ben asked tentatively.

“I was contacted when he had the stroke. The doctors were only giving him a few weeks, so I came back. He held on for three months after that, I was with him all then. It’s been nearly three and half years now. It just feels like I’ve been doing time.”

“What do you mean?”

Caleb inhaled. “It feels like I’m just making up for all the time I wasn’t here, you know? I took off after high school and never came back. He and I kept in touch but—” He stopped there and continued in a new thought, “All this stuff with the house and the land, I’m trying to do the things he would have wanted. He used to tell me exactly how he’d like to do it if he could. But in the end it feels like too little, too late.”

“I’m sure it would mean a lot more than that to him,” Ben murmured the comfort awkwardly.

They up to the head of the Tallmadges’ driveway now. Ben turned to face Caleb and saw his expression was still solemn.

“I just can’t seem to get away from the feeling that things would have been different, maybe, if I was here.”

Ben thought of his dad sitting in a wheelchair twenty yards away. “Yeah,” he breathed.

“He’ll be fine, Ben,” Caleb said in answer to Ben’s thoughts. “He’s strong and he’s stubborn.” He shrugged and smiled suddenly, “He probably still would have climbed that tree, even if you were here.”

“That’s true.” Ben grinned. There was a certain artless charm in the way Caleb talked that made everything he said seem warm and personal.

Ben tipped his head to indicate the house, “You wanna come in and see him? We’re trying to keep the visitations to a slow trickle but I’m sure he’d love to see you.”

“I think I’ll stop by later. I’ve got to get back to the house. I left early to run an errand before church, so I’ve already been away too long. The dogs have probably staged a coup by now.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” Ben heard himself say as they parted. Caleb thanked him and continued on his way down the road. Ben turned slowly and started down the drive, watching Caleb over his shoulder until he disappeared from view.

 

At seven-thirty that evening the doorbell rang. Ben looked up from his laptop screen. Nathaniel remained still in his chair across the room, blinking down at a large book through the split lens of his bifocals.

“You expecting anybody?”

“That isn’t how things work around here,” Nathaniel answered primly.

As he got up to answer the door, Ben consoled himself with the thought that he wouldn’t have the time to get used to the way things worked around here.

It was Caleb on the doorstep. He wore a wide smile and hugged a large box with a dish towel draped over its contents.

“Hey!”

“Hi.” Ben broke into a smile of his own despite his confusion. He stepped back from the door and allowed Caleb in. “What’s this?”

“Dinner.” Caleb answered, moving past him and heading straight for the kitchen. Ben shut the door and followed. Caleb went on, “The church set up a meal calendar for you guys but it doesn’t start until tomorrow.” He put the box on the kitchen table and whipped the towel away to reveal a baking dish and several other food containers. “I figured you probably wouldn’t be thinking about dinner.”

“I didn’t think about it once,” Ben said, amazed. “I guess we kind of got used to being hand-fed by Martha and George.” He went around the table and took the dish Caleb handed to him.

“I—had no idea you could cook.”

Caleb eyed him and said, “Well you don’t really know me all that well, do you?”

“Got me there,” Ben replied, feeling a little flustered.

“Is that Caleb Brewster I hear?” Nathaniel's voice came from the hall and the old wooden flooring creaked beneath the weight of his wheelchair.

“Hiya, Nat!” Caleb called back cheerfully. “I brought dinner!”

“Homemade?” Nathaniel asked, rolling into view of the archway.

“What else?”

“Well, this is a wonderful surprise. We’re in for a treat, Ben. Caleb’s one of the best cooks I know.”

Caleb smiled triumphantly and Ben looked duly chastened.

“So how you feeling, Nat?” Caleb asked as he pulled out a chair at the table near Nathaniel and settled himself in it.

“I’m already planning on burning the chair when I’m finished with it,” Nathaniel said irritably. “But physically I feel fine. No pain at all.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of what the pain killers are for,” Ben muttered, placing the cardboard box on the floor by the wall and straightening to get dinner plates from the cabinet.

Nathaniel side-eyed Ben pointedly. “And this is the benevolent nursemaid I was bestowed with. All snark and sarcasm.”

“Aw, ignore him, Nat,” Caleb said with a laugh, getting up again and pushing the chair back under the table. Then he tossed a wink in Ben’s direction. “He may come off prickly but he really is worried about you.”

Ben’s mouth open as if he intended a counter, but he didn’t speak. He realized wasn’t quite sure what he thought of Caleb Brewster. Caleb still made him nervous, but there was something else about him, something Ben liked. He shook his head suddenly and put the plates down on the table.

“You’ll eat with us, of course,” Nathaniel said, indicating the three plates.

“Oh no, I was just gonna drop the food and run.” Caleb clasped his hands together and took a step back.

“You’re kidding,” Ben attempted to ascertain. “You brought us so much.” He waved to the food. “You have to help us, we’ll never get through it all ourselves.”

“And we wouldn’t mind the company,” Nathaniel rejoined kindly.

Caleb was prevailed upon and he sat down again. They ate together. Baked chicken, wild rice, asparagus and freshly baked bread. Everything was wonderful. As they finished, Nathaniel insisted that Ben run and fetch his senior yearbook, asking, “You two graduated the same year, right?” Ben and Caleb glanced at each other, gauging, affirming in unison as Ben stood. He returned and he and Caleb cleared the table of dishes while Nathaniel flipped through the yearbook. Ben packed away what was left over and began to wash the dishes. Caleb stood behind Nathaniel’s wheelchair and chatted with him about the yearbook, telling him the stories behind some of the photos.

“These aren’t very good pictures of you, Ben,” Nathaniel commented suddenly.

Ben laughed, “I’ve never been very photogenic.”

“That always confused me,” Caleb murmured. Neither Ben or Nathaniel asked him to expound on that. Ben scrubbed furiously at Caleb’s baking dish. He tried not to look when Caleb came up next to him with a towel to dry the clean dishes.

It was late, some time past ten by the time Caleb stepped onto the porch with his box of empty dishes. The time had passed so easily but Caleb was beginning to feel a little too eager. He had spent the afternoon cooking the food for the Tallmadges after he decided to do it on his walk home. Then he had been all too easily convinced to stay and eat with them, despite the fact that he had half-consciously resolved against it. He knew this wasn’t all fueled by charitable feelings toward Nat. No, the glow caused by Ben’s compliments on the food and appraising glance were a compelling argument to the contrary.

But Caleb couldn’t do this. He couldn’t get strung out on somebody who would be gone by the end of the month. That would be stupid.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which I use all the characters to fawn over Abigail because it's how I feel. :^)

Ben woke at five every morning. 

He never pinpointed when the habit started but it almost never varied. The early morning was blue-gray and hazy. Ben felt heavy from restless sleep but he could never stay in bed long. He turned the shower as hot as it would go. The water smelled of sulfur. He hadn't missed that. The hissing streams of water burned into his skin. His mind clouded with intrusive thoughts, an occurrence almost as routine as the shower itself. He had come to hate showering in his adulthood. It frustrated him that there was nothing else he could be doing, no other worries he could attend to. He felt trapped in this space while the world rushed on without him, leaving him behind.

Ben laced his fingers together over the back of his neck and pressed his forearms against his ears, muffling sound. He closed his eyes and dropped his head under the stream. The water pounded down in a thunder. It drowned out his thoughts and made him calm again. When his arms fell the water sounded strange and hollow. He turned it off. Faint, white-gold stripes of sunlight hovered on the old-fashioned papered wall to the left of the mirror. Ben peeked between the blinds and saw the dawnlight seeping through the haze. He heaved a sigh and dressed.

“Would you mind running to the store this morning? I need a few things.” Nathaniel pushed a slip of paper across the table toward Ben as they were finishing breakfast. Nathaniel rubbed his chin as Ben glanced over the list. “You know I hate to make you run errands for me, I’d much rather go myself...”

“I know, but don’t worry about it. It’s what I’m here to do,” Ben murmured.

Nathaniel eyed him. “You feeling alright?”

“Didn’t sleep well.” Ben brushed it off.

 

Ben took his dad’s old Volkswagon into town, not wanting to make the walk back laden with bags. He saw Caleb lounging on the porch of Sam Townsend’s general store as he pulled up, his feet up on a small end table by the rocking chair where he sat, a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. The engine shuddered off and Ben got out of the car, gingerly pushing the door closed, almost afraid the car would rattle to pieces if he shut it too hard.

“That car’s seen better days,” Caleb commented.

“Yeah,” Ben agreed, regarding the Volkswagon ruefully over his shoulder as he stepped up onto the porch. “It was the shit when I was sixteen and newly licensed, but now it just feels like driving a cardboard box on wheels.”

He finally brought himself to look at Caleb fully. The cap was pushed back to the back of Caleb’s head and he smiled.

“Morning.”

“Hey,” Ben returned, then immediately felt bulky. He continued suddenly, “My dad gave me a list, some things to pick up. Is the place open yet?”

Caleb shook his head. “Not yet.”

“What time does it usually open?”

“Whenever Sam gets here,” Caleb answered with a chuckle.

“When’s that?”

“Any time between eight and ten.”

Ben glanced at his watch, quarter past nine. He shoved his hands into his pants’ pockets and fell against one of the porch’s supports, turning his head to survey the empty street.

“Things move slowly around here, don’t they? I mean, the place has always been pretty sleepy, I don’t remember things being quite _this_ slow.”

“Nah, you’re right. It’s definitely gotten slower since we were young.” He pulled his feet from the table, planted them on the floor of the porch and rested his elbows on his knees. He shut one eye against the morning sun as his head swung up toward Ben. “I’d give it another ten, fifteen years before this place becomes a ghost town.”

Ben smiled, but not really at what Caleb said.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna wait, I know a way in,” Caleb offered, now lifting a hand to shield his eyes.

“That doesn’t sound legal.”

“It isn’t, technically.”

Ben dipped his head and laughed. “I—I’m not in a hurry. I can wait.”

The sun was hot on Ben’s shoulders and Caleb was still squinting but they remained, chatting in quiet voices despite their solitude.

Ben didn’t notice Sam Townsend come up behind him until Townsend greeted him.

“Benjamin! How pleasant to see you.”

Another man Ben didn’t recognize stood beside Townsend, regarding Ben with interest.

“Have you met Nathaniel Sackett? A good friend of mine...” Townsend introduced the man with an excited gesture and a wide smile.

“I’ve heard quite a lot about you in the past couple days,” Sackett said, one eyebrow cocked at an impossible angle as they exchanged a handshake. “Many good things, but a significant amount has been pure speculation, I’m sure.”

Ben wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“Ben’s here to pick up some things for Nat,” Caleb addressed Townsend from behind him, rising from the rocking chair.

“Ah! I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long!” Townsend cried in a profusely apologetic tone. He bustled past them to the front door of the store and produced a key.

“I’m not in any hurry,” Ben repeated kindly.

“Do you have a list written down?” Townsend asked as opened the door and ushered Ben inside. Ben produced the list and Townsend plucked it from his fingers and handed it to Caleb, insisting, “Caleb will gather the things for you, you sit down and relax, have some cappuccino.”

Blinking in confusion, Ben turned to Caleb for help. He received a shake of the head and a grin.

“It’s good cappuccino, a brand new machine.” Then, leaning in a little so that the bustling Townsend would not hear, Caleb added with a confidential air, “He’s really proud of it, go ahead. I’ll take care of the list.”

Ben allowed himself to be led to a circle of chairs in the back corner of the store, set up by a low counter with the brand new cappuccino machine on it. The modern design of the machine stood out oddly against the homey, rustic atmosphere of the store. Caleb disappeared behind the shelves as Ben was put into a chair and a cappuccino was prepared for him.

So Ben sat with Townsend and Sackett, cupping a small mug and saucer in both hands as he answered their questions and tried to understand in the conversation that the two of them tossed back and forth. Sackett sat with a neglected magazine in his lap regarding Townsend and Ben over the rims of his reading glasses. Ben gathered that Sackett was an author of some sort, and had retired to Little Eden to be with his old friend Townsend. The two of them were totally opposite: Sackett satirical and blunt, Townsend fluttery and magnanimous. It took all of Ben’s self-control not to laugh out-right at some of the things they said.

The front doorbell chimed distantly.

“Morning, Sam,” a woman’s voice came from Ben’s left. All three men looked up, Townsend and Sackett beamed, Ben blinked.

“Good morning, Abbie!” Townsend stood to meet her as she walked up.

“I was just wondering if my order came in yesterday, I was so busy I never made it up here.”

“It did, it did!” Townsend chimed, laying a hand on her arm, “I have it in the back but,” —he glanced at Ben— “have you met Ben?”

Abbie turned to follow Sam’s gesture and her face warmed with a stunning smile.

“The Tallmadge boy?”

Ben nodded and quickly stood halfway to accept her extended hand, eager to meet her while desperately trying not to spill any cappuccino from the shallow mug.

“We were so relieved to hear your dad’s okay,” Abbie was saying now. “You know he married my husband and I last summer.” Ben smiled and inclined his head with interest. The lovely smile came again, this time with a facetious gleam, “Then last year my son decided he wanted to learn Greek in _addition_ to Spanish, and your dad has been helping him out a lot with that.”

“He has quite a passion for Greek,” Ben answered with a twist of a smile, Abbie laughed.

“So you’re here while he recovers?” She asked.

“Just until he’s out of the wheelchair, really,” Ben jumped to clarify that his stay would be brief. “Should be by the end of the month.”

Townsend pursed his lips but Ben didn’t notice.

“Well, we’re happy to have you here, while you stay,” Abbie said kindly. Ben thanked her, her smile made him feel sincere.

She left with Townsend then, disappearing through the doorway beyond the cashier’s counter.

“Nearly angelic,” Sackett’s voice broke the small silence.

When Ben looked at him he was wearing a companionable smile that didn’t seem to fit him very well. Ben let out a laugh and agreed.

Caleb returned presently, throwing a thumb back at where Townsend stood by the register, “Sam’s gonna ring you up next after he finishes with Abbie.” Then adding, “You met her?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice, isn’t she?”

Ben laughed again, “Yes, very.”

Ben watched Caleb begin to prepare himself a cup of coffee. Sackett pretended to rediscover the interest in his magazine.

“Hey, I wanted to—I mean, thanks again for helping with the—I really could have...” Ben frustrated himself with how much he floundered through that sentence.

“Nah,” Caleb waved him off as he turned to lean against the counter. The cappuccino machine grumbled and let off trails of steam. “You don’t have to feel guilty, Sam bulldozed you.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Sackett quipped without looking up from the magazine.

Caleb tipped his head to that and blew on his freshly brewed cappuccino.

“Caleb, Ben tells me you and he went to school together,” Sackett said presently, finally looking up again.

With a nod, Caleb’s eyes flicked up to meet Sackett’s look and he wiped foam off his mustache with a knuckle. Ben watched, dreading the subject and damning himself for being so incompetent with the handling of it.

“When’s the last time you would have seen each other?”

Both Ben and Caleb opened their mouths, look at each other, then shrugged. Several small, unintelligible noises were made by both until Ben said:

“Was it August?”

“Yeah,” Caleb agreed hastily.

“Just before you moved away.” Was he allowed to admit he remembered that?

“Right. Nearly thirteen years now,” Caleb said, nodding quickly at Sackett.

Sackett blinked at him over the rims of his glasses, his eyebrows raised.

Ben could have changed the subject but he only irritated himself further by asking, “Where did you end up going?”

“California. An old friend of my uncle was opening up a restaurant. He knew I was looking for a job, knew I was looking to move out-of-state, too.”

“A restaurant. Is that where you learned how to cook?”

Caleb’s eyes shined and he nodded. “Yeah, I worked there seven years, from busboy to cook.”

“Wow,” Ben said, wondering to himself what Caleb was doing for the other years between then and now, and finding he wanted to know.

“Sam’s probably ready for you. You finished with your coffee?” Caleb extended his hands toward Ben’s empty mug.

Abbie stood at the counter chatting with Townsend when Ben came up. She said goodbye to them both and took a box from the counter to carry out. The sunlight streaming through the front window illuminated the curly hairs that strayed from her braids. Nat’s list was on the countertop beside two paper shopping bags, check marks and prices scratched in red ink beside every item. Ben paid, dropped the list in one of the bags and gathered them in his arms.

“Let me get the door for you.” Caleb passed behind him to reach the door. The bell sounded as he opened it.

“Thank you, Caleb,” Martha said, coming through.

“Oh, morning Martha,” Caleb greeted her.

Ben and Martha exchanged good mornings, she asked after Nat and was very pleased to hear Ben liked the cappuccino.

The apparent inanity of the things that interested these people began to overwhelm Ben. He attempted to detach himself quickly from the conversation, aching to leave and worried that Caleb had been holding the door far too long now. He introduced an awkward goodbye and Martha graciously relinquished him.

“Sorry—and thank you,” Ben said to Caleb, shuffling through the door sideways to avoid touching Caleb at all. “Again.”

Caleb accepted this with an amused smile.

“See ya later.”

“Yep.”

Ben withdrew abruptly. Martha turned toward the back of the room and looked at Townsend, who caught her glance and in turn looked at Sackett. Sackett had risen from his chair to stand at the far end of the counter, mug in hand, glasses positioned even further down his nose than usual. He received the looks from Martha and Townsend and his eyes sparkled as his brows jumped up briefly.

Caleb let go of the door and it closed, triggering the chime again. He swung around and went behind the counter to continue with his usual duties. He noticed, suddenly, that all three of his friends were watching him intently. He stopped completely and glanced between them.

“What.”

“Good-looking, don’t you think?” Martha asked.

“Who?”

“Ben, of course.”

Caleb’s gaze shifted to Townsend suspiciously. Townsend’s glow gave it all away.

“No, guys, we’re not doing this.” Caleb shook his head and put both hands firmly on the counter.

“Oh, _why not_ ,” Sackett answered in more of an exclamation than a question. “It seems to me there’s some history here.”

“Oh, Nate, do tell!” Martha exclaimed.

Caleb shook his head again, more emphatically.

“Did something happen between the two of you?”

“Not really.” _Fuck, poor choice of words._ Caleb scrambled beneath enthralled and expectant gazes, “Well there was a thing—it wasn’t really anything actually. It was nothing. He probably doesn’t even remember.”

“Oh, whatever it was, he remembers,” Sackett paused over his mug to insist before taking a long sip.

“Jesus, Sackett, it was high school. It doesn’t matter anymore. Can we drop it?”

“Of course,” Townsend said, nodding Sackett, urging to him to agree. Sackett just rolled his eyes and returned to his chair.

“We’ll drop it,” Martha assured Caleb.

None of them had any intention of dropping it, but Caleb seemed appeased. It would be entirely unfruitful to push right now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is short and shitty i'm sorry. i have some fun things planned next so hopefully, it will get better!!

Carolyn Boyd made Akinbode jump when she sang out her greetings to him and Caleb on Wednesday morning outside Townsend’s. Caleb would have laughed at him, but he had just unsuccessfully tried to hide behind Akinbode’s truck when he spotted her a moment previous. To their surprise, she scurried past without attempting to engage them in conversation. They exchanged relieved glances and laughed at their shared apprehension.

The bell chimed a little more furiously than usual, a sure sign that Carolyn had arrived. Martha quickly finished organizing the canned food shelf and stood to report promptly to Carolyn’s call. Carolyn was beckoning to her surreptitiously.

“I’ve been compiling,” she spoke in a loud whisper as Martha came up, wrestling a piece of paper out of her purse and unfolding it.

“Compiling?”

“Mhm,” Carolyn nodded excitedly. “A list. It has four girls on it so far. I’ve been thinking of adding Hailey Miller as a fifth but I don’t think she’s quite eligible. I’m sure you agree.”

“Well, I don’t know, Carolyn—” Martha answered tentatively. “What’s the list _for_?”

“For Benjamin, _of course.”_

“What’s for Benjamin?” Sackett asked, coming up to them, Townsend hovered near on the other side of the counter, obviously eavesdropping.

“A list of eligible young ladies!” Carolyn cried gleefully, abandoning the whisper. Then, clutching the paper to her chest and narrowing her eyes, “You don’t think Hailey Miller quite makes the cut, do you?”

“I shouldn’t say so.” Sackett cocked an eyebrow “She’s engaged _,_ isn’t she?”

“Well, practically, anyhow.” Carolyn sniffed.

Martha sent a vaguely panicked glance back at Townsend and his look urged her forward. She turned back to Carolyn and started, haltingly, “Carolyn, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I really don’t think Ben would be interested in any of these young ladies.”

“What? Why not?” Carolyn demanded, squaring her shoulders and taking offense as if Ben had already rudely snubbed them. “Are they too small town for a big shot like him?”

“No, no, nothing like that, dear,” Martha assured her quickly. “It’s just that—they’re _ladies_.”

Carolyn looked confused for a moment. “Oh?” Then, comprehending suddenly, “ _Oh!”_ She was quiet for a moment longer. “I didn’t know that.”

Martha looked desperately from Sackett to Townsend, worrying that she just made a mistake. Sackett’s eyes were very wide. Otherwise, his face was blank. Townsend’s mouth hung ajar and his hands were pressed flat on the countertop. He was holding his breath.

“I assumed you knew,” Martha continued. “Most everybody knows, I think. I mean, he had a boyfriend in college. He brought him home one Christmas.”

“ _Did he now?_ ” Carolyn breathed, flabbergasted. “I don’t remember that.”

Martha believed that. Carolyn hardly had any mind for information that didn’t pertain exactly to her current vein of interest.

Carolyn stood completely still, one pointer finger pressed to her cheek, deep in thought. Martha once again looked to her friends for reassurance. Sackett lifted a finger slightly, advising her to wait.

The doorbell sounded for Caleb as he swung in, calling a goodbye to Akinbode. Carolyn whirled suddenly and burst into life again, startling everyone.

“Caleb Brewster, thank _Heaven!_ I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you!”

Caleb’s brows drew together in confusion and he glanced over his shoulder through the front window to where he stood not two minutes previous. Carolyn paid him no mind.

“I did the silliest thing! I have my sister and her husband driving up from _Waterbury_ tomorrow to have dinner with me, but what would you know, I signed up for the Tallmadges’ meal calendar tomorrow, too! I really don’t know _where_ I leave my head some days. Of course, you see the problem. I can’t possibly cancel on my sister and won’t have anywhere near the time to prepare meals for both.” Caleb watched her as she plowed through him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “I knew you’d be more than happy to take over for the Tallmadges,” Carolyn concluded with her usual self-assurance, knowing she would not be refused.

“Don’t give it another thought, I’ll take care of it,” Caleb answered, already tentatively shuffling past her in an attempt to escape.

“You really are a dear!” Carolyn cried, seizing both his hands. Then, lowering her voice she said, “And don’t worry for a moment about them being disappointed. Your cooking is fabulous for an amateur.”

Caleb laughed and gave her hands a squeeze. “Thank you, Mrs. Boyd. That means a lot coming from you.”

They beamed at one another, Carolyn completely unaware of the drop of sarcasm in Caleb’s warm voice. Throwing he friends a look, Caleb escaped, disappearing into the back room. Carolyn watched him go, then threw a look of her own between the three standing there.

She shrugged her shoulders with delight and her eyes glittered with excitement, “A bit small to start, but we’ll get the ball rolling!”

With that, she was gone. A rather serendipitous mistake, Martha thought gleefully. Conspiratorial smiles passed between them as they went about their work for the rest of the day.

  


“Was that Martha I heard?” Ben asked Thursday morning when he came into the den from the basement, his arms full of clean bedding for the guest room on the first floor where Nathaniel was sleeping.

“Oh—yes. She was here to,” Nathaniel paused, looking around himself abstractedly, “borrow a book.”

“Oh.” Ben wondered if his dad was feeling alright, but thought it was better not to question him. They had already knocked heads over a couple things this morning. Ben withdrew to finish with the chores.

  


Nathaniel complained of an upset stomach that evening and asked Ben to help him into bed. Ben felt a little guilty that the first thing he thought was how he would now have to face Mrs. Boyd alone when she showed up with dinner. He got Nathaniel settled and brought him water and antacid to take.

“Ah, there’s Carolyn,” Nathaniel said in a heavily casual tone when the doorbell rang. Ben sighed loudly and left the bedroom. “Be nice to her, Ben,” he called.

“I’ll be the picture of courtesy,” Ben called back.

Caleb was just beginning to consider leaving the box on the porch and booking it when the door opened. The bland expression on Ben’s face changed to surprise when he saw Caleb. He pushed the screen door open and Caleb stepped around it and into the house.

“Hi. I—didn’t know it was you tonight,” Ben was saying. “We were expecting Mrs. Boyd.”

Caleb blinked. “She didn’t tell you?”

“I guess not.”

Caleb followed him back toward the kitchen.

“She was probably too busy,” he offered the thought, talking more to himself than Ben. “Still, it’s the sort of thing I would expect to get around… Although it doesn’t really matter.” He shook his head and shoved the box onto the counter by the sink. “Her sister is coming to dinner today and she didn’t have enough time to cook for both, so she asked me to fill in.”

“Aw, that’s too bad, I was looking forward to a creative casserole.”

“Sorry. I brought lasagna.” Caleb pulled the dish from the box and placed in on the table.

“I guess I’ll have to settle for that.”

Ben went to the cabinet for plates. He pulled out two and Caleb sunk a little.

“Dad’s not feeling well. He says his stomach’s upset. We think it’s probably the medication.” Ben put the plates on the table and went for silverware. “You’ll stay and eat, right? You can’t make me eat alone.”

“No, couldn’t to that,” Caleb answered, watching as Ben smiled down at the silverware drawer.

“So, how are things going between you and Nat?” Caleb asked when they had served themselves.

“It’s up and down still,” Ben answered straightening his fork on the table absently. “We’re both trying, I think, which helps. He still hates being housebound though.” Caleb nodded and Ben continued, brightening, “He’s got two appointments in Burlington tomorrow. We scheduled the check-up on the same day as his PT so we wouldn’t have to go into Burlington two separate times. We’re hoping to hear that he can leave the chair there.”

“It will be good for him to be on his feet again,” Caleb said, watching Ben’s hand as he reached for a napkin. His gaze raised abruptly to Ben’s face and he asked, “And you’ll get to go home then, right?”

Ben wiped his face with the napkin and nodded.

“This place must seem pretty strange to you, huh? It did to me when I first moved back.”

“It’s definitely a culture shock,” Ben laughed, spending much longer than necessary to fold the napkin and slip it beneath the lip of his plate. “But it shouldn’t be for much longer, I’ll just have to ride it out, I guess.”

Caleb had prompted him with the question; he wasn’t sure why he was irritated with the reply. He resolved once again not to get too invested in this guy. He might be charming and friendly and easy to talk to but that didn’t have to _mean_ anything. Anyway, he would be gone soon and Caleb wouldn’t have to worry about it any longer. Just ride it out.

Ben pushed his cleared plate away and leaned into the table, folding his arms on the surface. He smiled.

“Why don’t you tell me about California?”

_Jesus._

 

Ben went in to say goodnight to Nathaniel after Caleb left. He told him about the mix-up with the meal calendar and Nathaniel seemed very tickled by it all. Ben sat on the edge of the bed and Nathaniel asked him what he and Caleb talked about. They spoke for a few minutes longer before Ben stood to leave. When he glanced down at the alarm clock for the time, Ben noticed the antacid tablet was still on the nightstand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry these updates are so short, but i guess i'd rather post short updates than no updates
> 
> either way i love this chapter and i hope you do too

Friday only brought disappointment. Nathaniel was to remain in the wheelchair another couple weeks, at least until the next appointment. The physical therapy was taxing and took capacity for positivity out of him. Ben swallowed back guilt when he thought too fondly of New York on the ride back to Little Eden. He tried to focus his thoughts on his father’s pain.

  


Townsend came to visit early Saturday morning. He and Nathaniel sat in the den talking for several hours while Ben busied himself with answering emails and returning the phone calls he missed over the past few days. A phone message from Anna informed him that she and Alex had secured the first two buyers for Andre. The message from Andre told him the same, but with added gushing and gratitude. Ben wished he could be there with them to celebrate. He worked on whatever he could remotely, but he felt detached and unhelpful. He had grown accustomed to giving everything to this job for the past several years. Now his friends were bearing his portion as well as their own.

He finished with a final phone call and returned to the den. As he entered, Townsend asked Nathaniel if he felt up to attending church the next day.

“I’d like to, but you know it’s such a hassle to get anywhere in this chair,” Nathaniel answered, regarding his lap with disgust. “Even getting down the front porch is a fiasco of its own.”

“We’ll call George over to help if you really want to go, Dad,” Ben joined, hoping his tone sounded reassuring. “You know he won’t mind.”

Nathaniel nodded grudgingly, conceding.

“And if you think it’d be worth it, we could rent a ramp to have for the next month or so.”

Suddenly, Townsend and Nathaniel’s faces lit with what seemed to be a mutual revelation. The idea formed so quickly and was decided upon so firmly that Ben was given no chance to offer counterpoints, although he tried. Caleb would build a ramp for them. What trouble? He would be happy do it, Townsend was sure. He and Ben would go up to Back of the Moon immediately to talk to him about it. No, there was no need to call, Caleb wouldn’t mind. Ben would get a chance to the see the house, too. Nathaniel insisted he would be fine by himself while Ben was gone and ushered him after Townsend, who was already out the front door calling back to Ben to come along.

Ben spent the entire walk trying to figure out exactly how this happened as he hurried to keep up with Townsend’s surprising pace.

Lucas Brewster’s cabin would have been completely unrecognizable out of the context of the shimmering lake beyond the trees. The wood facade looked brand new and the battered green shutters discarded for a more simplistic trim around the windows. The yard was neatly kept. A handful of orange flowers still clung to the bushes that sprawled in a pleasing row along the dirt driveway.

“Azaleas,” Townsend commented as they started up the drive. “They’re in full bloom early May, most years. You should really see them then, quite stunning.”

There was an outdoor shower built into the side of the house near the back, beyond two large outdoor trashcans. Ben wouldn’t have noticed it if its door didn’t bang open without warning when he and Townsend were about halfway up the driveway.

Out stepped Caleb, sopping wet and lugging an equally soaked and miserable-looking Border collie in both arms. Townsend hailed him immediately in a cheery, delighted squeal. Caleb set the dog down and took hold of its collar as he waved them up. He wore nothing other than a pair of soaked shorts but it was Ben who turned pink.

“Well, what happened here?” Townsend beamed down at the dog, appearing blissfully unaware of any awkwardness.

“She forgot she can’t swim and took a flying leap off the dock into the lake,” Caleb explained, half bent to hang on to the wriggling dog while he raked the fingers of his free hand through his hair. “Happens almost every summer. I had to dive in there after her, fish her out. I wanted to get all the muck rinsed before we dried off, it makes her coat all matted and gross.” He threw a thumb back at the shower and a glance up at Ben. Ben probably over-compensated with the understanding nod but he was still processing an appropriate reaction and allowed it to suffice.

“What—what’s got you guys up here?” Caleb’s head tipped and a beginning of smile peeked out from the corners of his eyes.

Townsend explained everything, starting with that morning’s conversation. Caleb squatted down next to the collie as he listened to relive the strain in his arm. The collie sat dutifully and watched Caleb with pleading eyes.

“We were thinking of a sort of temporary installment to place over the porch steps,” Townsend was saying.

“And a threshold ramp for the front door,” Ben added. Caleb looked to him when he spoke and Ben worried his gaze might seem a little too intense, but eye contact was imperative.

“Sure, sounds good,” Caleb nodded thoughtfully for what felt like a long time. “You know what, why don’t you guys come inside. I’ll get dried off,” the smile broke out, “and we’ll talk about it. Maybe draw up a list of what we might need.”

Caleb stood again. Ben’s head dropped and Townsend, still obliviously delighted, perked up and followed Caleb toward the back. Ben was momentarily distracted from his embarrassment by the view provided to them from the back of the house. The hill began to slope evenly about seven yards from the porch. A few towering trees were all that obstructed the expanse of Moon Lake, the sparkling silver of its waters and its graceful curve around the dense forest on the far bank. Ben spotted a pile of clothing on the weathered old dock built out from the base of the hill and remembered the burning in his ears.

Caleb had a sliding glass door opened and was saying to Townsend, “Why don’t you go on into the kitchen, Sam. There’s a pitcher of lemonade in the fridge, you can pour us all a glass.”

The collie started to slip past Caleb through the door but Ben caught her. “You want her in the house like this?” he asked, realizing too late that his dive for the dog put him much closer to Caleb than he would have preferred. There was some shuffling and half-finished sentences before Caleb produced a towel from a shelf in the tiled mudroom. He dried himself first, rubbing the towel down his legs and freckled arms. Ben couldn’t decide where to look. When Caleb finished and reached for the dog, Ben took the towel decisively, saying, “I can dry her off, you go ahead.”

Caleb thanked him and started into the house. Ben followed inside with the dog in tow. He would have been relieved to let Caleb go but felt obligated to add:

“Look, I’m sorry about showing up like this, I suggested we call you but Mr. Townsend seemed to think it wouldn’t be a problem.”

Caleb gave a one-shouldered shrug, “It’s not a problem, I always keep a pitcher of something handy for guests.”

He looked a little too gleeful to have really misunderstood Ben’s meaning. Ben fought an unexpected grin and turned his attention to drying the dog. Caleb disappeared up a stairwell to the left of the door.

The collie tolerantly allowed him to rub her down with the towel. She twisted her head back toward him every chance he gave her to lick at his face. Her white and chocolate coat fluffed as he worked the dampness from it.

A second dog appeared in the archway that Townsend had walked through minutes earlier. This was a blue mastiff, much bigger than the collie. It loped over to Ben and inspected him with several expressive huffs before allowing Ben to scratch behind an ear.

A pounding sounded Caleb’s return down the stairs. He swung back into the mudroom dressed in a slightly over-sized t-shirt and cotton shorts. Ben hadn’t thought about how neatly Caleb kept his beard until he saw it now, tousled and sticking out in a few different directions.

“Aw, they like you,” he observed immediately.

“I thought Border collies were supposed to be good swimmers.”

“So did I. I don’t know what happened with her. She’s a black sheep, I guess.”

“What’s her name?”

“Wesson. He’s Smith,” Caleb pointed to the mastiff. A lopsided smile returned Ben’s amused comprehension, then, “Obviously that works better when I introduce them in the opposite order.”

Ben detangled himself from the dogs and stood, offering his palms for them to lick. “They’re very sweet.”

“You like dogs?” Ben nodded. “How about cats?”

“Cats, too.”

“Good.” Caleb turned and led the way toward the kitchen. “She’s skulking around here somewhere.”

“Beretta?”

“Margaret.”

Townsend noted the smile exchanged between them when they entered the kitchen. The dogs weaved between their legs, still excited about the new friend they made.

As directed, Townsend had a glass of lemonade ready for each. Townsend was the one with the idea, Caleb had the experience. With very little to contribute, Ben contented himself to sip his lemonade and listen to them discuss preliminary plans while Caleb scribbled things down on a notepad. He took in the homey atmosphere of the cabin’s interior. The kitchen, dining, and living rooms were combined in one big great room. Many of the furnishings were old-fashioned and had probably been there since Caleb’s grandparents owned the house. Ben noticed a record player on the far side of the stone fireplace, and a bookcase packed with records just beyond the player. He was busy trying to imagine what kind of music filled the case when Caleb spoke to him.

“How does that look?”

Caleb held up the notepad, a rough sketch of the Tallmadges’ front porch on it, with the addition of the ramps.

“Did you just draw the porch from memory?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.” Townsend watched and sipped his lemonade.

“A lot of the houses around here look like that.”

Ben then remembered to answer the question, “I think it looks great. You think it’s doable?”

“Absolutely.”

It was settled. Caleb suggested that Ben come with him to pick up the lumber they would need. Monday, if Ben was free. Funny, Ben thought, as if he could possibly have any other plans here. Out loud he told Caleb he would be free.

“Do you have a preference for what kind of wood you want to use?” Caleb asked as Ben and Townsend were leaving.

“I might, if I knew anything about it,” Ben answered, laughing at himself, “but I don’t. So I’m gonna leave it up to you.”

Caleb grinned and reached down instinctively to catch Smith who trotting past him, ready to follow Ben out the door.

“The drive to the depot is just over half an hour, can I come by and pick you up Monday morning? Is eight too early?”

“Yeah, sure. Eight’s fine.”

It took Ben the whole walk back to put himself together.


	7. Chapter 7

“Thomas, no cookies until you eat some lunch,” Mary shooed her son away from the dessert table at the luncheon on Sunday. Thomas was easily distracted from his disappointment when he saw Caleb approaching. He ran over and begged to be picked up and swung around. Caleb indulged him happily.

“You’d better be glad he hasn’t eaten anything yet.” Mary smiled as Caleb came up, holding the shrieking Thomas upside down by the legs. Caleb laughed and flipped Thomas right side up to set him on the floor again.

“There are Nathaniel and Ben,” Mary said now, noticing the bustle by the door. Everyone was jumping forward to help the man in the wheelchair, despite the fact that he was already surrounded by far too many helping hands. Caleb looked over his shoulder to follow her gesture but appeared more or less disinterested. He returned his attention to Thomas, who was attempting to balance while standing on Caleb’s shoes.

“Caleb, you have to introduce me to Ben. You know Abe talks about him all the time, I feel like I have to meet him. He’s been here for two weeks and I just haven’t gotten the chance to introduce myself.”

“Oh, I gotta tell you what happened with him yesterday,” Caleb seemed to be laughing at himself as he spoke.

“You saw him yesterday?”

Thomas suddenly took off, distracted by something on the other side of the room.

“Mhm. He’s been seeing a lot of me lately.”

Odd to phase it like that, Mary thought. She shook her head and asked, “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll tell you later. Let’s go talk to him.”

A foreign sheepishness in Caleb’s manner planted a small idea in Mary’s mind. She didn’t want to make too much of it, but she thought was there a little awkwardness in Ben’s smile, too, when he saw Caleb walk over. Maybe he always smiled like that.

“Ben, this is Mary Woodhull, Abe’s wife.”

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!” Ben’s smile looked easy now as he offered a hand. “I haven’t seen Abe in years, not since I was in college.” After the proper niceties were exchanged, Ben continued, “I think I saw you here last week. You have a son, right?”

“Yes, my Thomas,” Mary answered, then looked around the room to locate him, “He’s around—he’s actually over by the dessert table again, trying to get a cookie. I already told him no.”

“I’ll go stop him,” Caleb offered, putting a hand on Mary’s back as he passed behind her. “I’ll get him something to eat.”

“So I heard Abe is overseas,” Ben said after Caleb withdrew.

“He’s stationed in Turkey right now. But he’s actually retiring from the service in September.”

“Oh? That must be exciting. And when’s the baby due?”

“End of October.”

“I bet it will be nice to have him home before then.”

Ben’s eyes were on the room behind Mary. She turned as she answered him to follow his look and saw where Caleb was bent over one of the buffet tables, piling potato salad on Thomas’s plate. He turned to confirm the amount with the child and was promptly instructed to add more.

“I told him to come show you his plate before he went for a cookie,” Caleb told Mary when he returned. “You want me to get you something to eat?”

Mary put a hand on her stomach and declined. “I’d actually just like to sit down.”

Caleb navigated her to a circle of chairs by the wall. They all sat and continued with their conversation until Thomas came up with his empty paper plate. He presented it to his mother and finally received permission to get dessert. He bounded off again. It wasn’t until he returned with a large chocolate chip cookie that he noticed Ben’s presence. He pressed close to Caleb and regarded Ben with blatant suspicion for several minutes before he abruptly introduced himself and asked Ben’s name. Then, in a gesture of friendship offered, “Do you want some of my cookie?”

“No, thank you. I haven’t eaten any lunch yet. My dad won’t let me have a cookie until I eat some lunch,” Ben tried a joke.

“Wait,” Thomas stopped dead and gave Ben a dramatically incredulous look. “You have a dad?”

“Yeah! That’s my dad.” Ben pointed to where Nathaniel was, not far from them.

“That’s Pastor Nathaniel.” Thomas’s dutiful pronunciation made them all exchange smiles.

“Yep, Pastor Nathaniel is my dad.”

This came as a shock to Thomas. His mouth fell open and his shoulders sagged in disbelief. He turned to his mother for confirmation.

“Mommy, Pastor Nathaniel is his dad.” The word “his” was spoken in a slightly accusatory tone. Mary’s nod only exasperated the four-year-old further, eliciting a big sigh as he protested, “But he’s a  _ grownup _ .”

“Well I’m a grownup, too and I have a dad.” Mary sought to soothe his distress. “Papa is my dad, remember?”

Thomas accepted that begrudgingly.

“Caleb, do you have a dad?”

Mary watched the affectionate glow in Caleb’s eyes deepen when Thomas looked up at him. “I did. Not anymore.”

“Did he die?”

“Yes.”

Thomas considered this gravely, staring past Caleb for a moment before saying, in the tone of one commiserating, “My dog died.”

“I remember that,” Caleb nodded.

“Remember I told you we’d get a new dog after Daddy comes home,” Mary told Thomas, running her fingers through his pale curls as he continued to stare off thoughtfully. “Daddy comes home, then we get a new dog...”

“Then the baby comes!” Thomas looked to her with excitement, finishing a sequence that had been repeated for him many times. Mary nodded happily and Thomas smiled.

“Are you excited about the baby?” Ben asked him.

“Yeah,” Thomas answered, nodding, his seriousness and self-importance returning.

“Are you going to help your mom with it?”

“Yeah. Mommy says I can push the stroller.”

Mary watched when Caleb and Ben got up to get their lunches. She couldn’t help but notice the extra bit of consciousness in Caleb’s movements or how the smile never quite left Ben’s mouth. Mary wondered again with renewed interest what it was Caleb wanted to tell her.

  
  


“Just leave the front door open, he’ll know to come on in,” Nathaniel instructed Ben the next morning. Ben did as he was told and returned to the kitchen to clean up the remains of their breakfast. At less than five minutes to eight, he heard the screen door screech open and the sound of Nathaniel and Caleb exchanging good mornings. Caleb declined Nathaniel’s offer of breakfast and coffee and then appeared in the doorway of the kitchen without warning.

“I wonder if I could ask you a favor,” he spoke as he swung in without a hello. The pair of Kelly green flip-flops were the first thing Ben noted when he looked up to answer Caleb’s query. He also wore torn-up jeans and a chocolate brown T-shirt with “Jake’s” printed across the chest in large block lettering. Ben pressed his lips together to hide a smile.

Having received an affirmative, Caleb explained, “I took the dogs’ kennels apart yesterday to wash them and but I was too lazy to put them back together again and  _ then _ I forgot about them. So they’re still sitting in pieces on my driveway and the dogs are in the truck now. I was wondering if you’d mind letting Smith sit between your feet on the passenger side. He hates car rides and it makes him feel better to have somebody with him. Wesson’s fine, she loves putting her head out the window.”

“I have no problem with that.”

“Okay, great. You ready?”

Winding, dipping back roads spidered through the northern Vermont forests. Sharp declines in the road made Ben’s stomach tingle. Caleb turned the radio on and Van Morrison played after a choir of synthesized voices sang the station’s jingle. Smith’s chin rested on Ben’s knee, his mournful eyes watching Ben for comfort. Ben made quiet, soothing noises and scratched at his ear when he whimpered. Wesson scuttled around in the back seat from the one window to the other, as if afraid she would miss something if she stayed at one too long. Morning sunlight strobed through the trees from the driver's side, highlighting Caleb’s beard and the hair on his arms. Ben kept asking questions just to keep him talking, just for an excuse to watch the light play on his eyelashes. The wind that rushed in through the open windows chilled Ben despite the warmth of the day. He shivered when Caleb looked back at him.

Caleb knew he could have handled this trip alone, but it certainly didn’t hurt to have Ben along. He liked the company, and so did Smith. Ben’s hand caught Caleb’s eye every time it passed over Smith’s silky head. With nothing particularly spectacular about his hands, Caleb wondered why he kept thinking how nice they looked.

The road began to look vaguely familiar to Ben when they rounded a bend and the trees thinned. He spotted a pristine-looking supermarket with a newly paved parking lot that stood out starkly against the wooded backdrop. Caleb shifted a little in his seat.

“That was the bowling alley,” he mentioned once they passed by.

“Oh.” Ben’s voice was a little chirp.

“They shut down a couple years ago. The supermarket’s only been there for a few months now.”

“Huh.”

Both hoping to steal a surreptitious glance, their eyes met for a brief second before both gazes hastily re-centered on the road ahead. Caleb felt a laugh bubbling up from his stomach and one hand flew to his mouth to stop it. The laughter broke out between them, evaporating the awkwardness that built up in the air every time they were together.

Ben’s head rolled down and he ran a hand through his hair. “Do you remember Kevin Ferris?” Caleb answered in the affirmative and Ben continued slowly, once again disbelieving the ease with which he was admitting this: “He and uh, Christie Mortimer had a bet senior year.”

“What kind of bet?” Caleb asked, with half an inclination already.

“To see who could get a date with you.” Caleb laughed at this and rubbed at his face self-consciously. “We were kind of this unofficial club, the three of us. The Caleb Fan Club.” Ben continued, finding himself almost pleased with Caleb’s embarrassment. Maybe Ben wasn’t the only one still wracked with high school humiliations. Besides, the glow in Caleb’s profile was precious. “I didn’t take the bet because I figured I didn’t have a chance.”

“You’re kidding me.” Caleb flashed him a shining glance as they rounded a sharp bend. Ben just nodded, chuckling. “Shit, man. How much was on it?”

“Forty. I remember because that was Kevin’s monthly allowance. But I don’t think either of them won the bet. They never actually asked you out, did they?”

Caleb shook his head slowly as if trying to remember. “I don’t think so.”

“Cowards.”

“To be fair, neither did you.”

“I’m not the one who bet forty bucks.”

Tipping his head to one side Caleb said, “Still.”

Ben considered this. What if he had spoken up about it then? Caleb probably would have reciprocated, he realized with a jolt. They probably would have ended up dating. Things may or may not have lasted between them but it was a strange thought. Neither of them wanted to explore the idea any further. A tacit agreement to drop it turned the conversation to other, far less compromising high school memories for the rest of the ride.

  
  


Some other job would take up Caleb’s afternoon. The Clarys’ something or other was broken or maybe needed to be painted. But Caleb promised to be at the Tallmadges’ early the next morning to start the work. They got back at a quarter past ten and unloaded all the lumber by the side of the house. Caleb slipped away quickly after declining yet another offer of refreshment.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a total beta because I've never posted a WIP before. We'll see how this goes (translation: let's see if I ever update).


End file.
